Based on personal experience of the author, and use of
anthropological theory, this paper examines small groups of urban
'street people.' While realizing that many of these people
have substance abuse problems and are in general disadvantaged, the
paper shows that they are far from powerless, and utilize many
strategies in order to survive in the city. Networking is focussed upon
here, in terms of ways that these individuals are connected in urban
settings, as well as facilitating a connection between rural (often
nearby reserve) and urban communities. Native and non-Native transients
have important roles in subsistence strategies necessary in the process
of First Nations urbanization, and these are often overlooked.

This paper employs anthropological and sociological theory to frame
some of my experiences living among individuals commonly referred to as
'street people.' Social scientists recognize that First
Nations peoples are much more complex than is suggested by studies of
pathology and economic disadvantage (Menzies 1999: 241), yet many of the
same studies still characterize 'street people' largely in
terms of culture loss, pathological afflictions and/or isolating social
marginality (e.g. Menzies 1999: 236-8: Hudson 1998: Morris and Heffren
1988). My experience suggests that these portrayals, while substantially
correct, are also incomplete. The people I call 'urban nomads'
think of themselves as much more than victims. Even those with substance
abuse problems and/or other pathologies formulate identities in relation
to understandings of Aboriginal tradition, including social
organization, practices and key symbols.

Dominant perceptions of Aboriginal homeless people are related to a
long history of marginalizing, isolationist characterizations of an
urbanizing Aboriginal population. Urbanizing Aboriginals have been
described as the creators of slums surrounded by a wall of poverty
(Dosman 1972: 10). This perception is reiterated in Wacquant's
(2001: 125) description of urban ghettos as exhibiting a now
"advanced" marginality, increasingly bounded by poverty and
viewed by insiders and mainstream society as social purgatories.

Although dysfunction, pathology, stigma and marginality are
certainly present on the streets, I argue, based on observations, that
urban nomads demonstrate considerable cultural awareness and diversity,
as do other 'homeless' people (Cress and Snow 2000:1101).
Rather than primarily 'bounded,' some of these people act, and
perceive themselves more, as 'boundary-spanners.' First
Nations people in general who live part-time in cities and on reserves
tend to integrate rural and urban contexts that are less culturally
dichotomous for them than is usually portrayed (Grantham-Chappel 1998:
386). A broad ethnohistorical and contextual perspective is necessary
for understanding diversity among the homeless (Cress and Snow 2000:
1101). This is especially important when many urban Aboriginal
transients come from reserves that resemble rural ghettos, (see York
1990) often with staggeringly high unemployment rates. To the colonial
administration, reserves were sites designed for assimilation and forced
culture change, (Carter 1990: 23) and (for First Nations) seen as
sanctuaries for culture retention. A central characteristic of many
reserves is their geographical and cultural isolation from mainstream
society (Buckley 1992: 11). In such a context, symbolic, ideological and
pragmatic 'isolation' in an urban domain can only be a matter
of degree and relative perception.

The 'urban nomads' (Spradley 1970) I lived with are only
a narrow segment of the spectrum of people categorized as
"homeless" or 'street people.' Their homelessness is
sporadic rather than chronic, and unlike many homeless people, urban
nomads constitute groups of highly visible people that concern the
public (Jencks 1994: 7). The urban nomads 1 lived among were relatively
young, predominantly male, mainly of Aboriginal descent and very mobile,
in contrast to other homeless people (more evenly split between women
and men) who remained very close to shelters over long periods of time.
Most of the cities I stayed in are near First Nations reserves, and many
Aboriginal people have moved or are in the process of moving to these
urban centres. Of these people, urban nomads constitute only a very
small number who practice semi-nomadic existences, usually only for
parts of the year.

Certain practices of urban nomads appear analogous to what is
perceived as 'traditional hunting band' social organization
(see Henriksen 1995: 17-40; Leacock 1986140-70: Braroe 1975:87-110).
Anthropologists working among the urban homeless recognize similarities
in adaptive strategies and mindsets between urban nomads and
hunter-gatherers. (Gigengack and van Gelder 2000: 10; Hauch 2002: 206).
Such analogical reasoning can serve to integrate different symbolic and
temporal domains (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992: 233). This paper uses
personal experience, ethnographic observations and humanistic style, in
focussing on my recollection of events and people, shaped through
collaborative dialogue with urban nomads, and subsequently with other
ethnographers and First Nations people.

Ethics, Access and Personal Experience as Informal Methodology

The ethical propriety and degree of methodological
'rigour' in data collection warrants discussion. 1 was
diagnosed with bipolar disorder in the mid 1970"s and my disorder
has been fully controlled since early 1995. Between 1976 and 1994
illness precipitated episodes of varying duration of my living 'on
the streets' in several cities, including Winnipeg, Brandon, Moose
Jaw, Edmonton, Red Deer, Calgary and Vancouver. Most of the people I
interacted with and received support from were Aboriginals. Many were in
situations similar to mine, living periodically without a home, involved
in substance abuse and often seeming quite manic. These shared
characteristics helped me fit in as a non-Native male. I was in no way
conducting clandestine research among these people, and I did not
consider myself an anthropologist until I received my doctorate, on an
unrelated subject (Letkemann 1998).

My episodes of living on the streets cumulatively total
approximately a year, including periods in spring, summer and early
fall. Sometimes I possessed, and often slept in a vehicle, including a
van. Having literally no monetary resources, and often perceiving myself
as a refugee from police and even family and friends, I relied on
cooperative efforts to provide minimal amounts of gasoline, and the van
provided short-distance transportation, becoming my contribution in a
subsistence system involving reciprocity. However, on several occasions
I relied on shelters such as the old brick Salvation Army hostel in
Winnipeg, or slept on public transportation or covered with fallen
leaves in forested urban parks. Sometimes I lived in several cities in
the same month, as I would periodically travel by sitting in 'truck
stops' and getting rides with exhausted semi-trailer drivers, or
riding open-topped freight rail cars. Occasionally local police would
provide long distance bus passes. Most people would be surprised at how
far and how quickly urban nomads can travel with no money at all.

As my experience with the lifestyle grew, this familiarity
increased my episodic reliance on street life, and facilitated
acceptance by urban nomads. I was never trying to elicit information
towards any future publication, and the questions I asked and
information I collected were designed to better understand and adapt to
situations I found myself in. Urban nomads interest me not primarily as
Aboriginals, but as former (and I believe underappreciated)
'associates' in the work of subsisting on the streets.

I am aware of the danger of generalization from personal
experiences, and misrepresentation posed by the reclassification of
'vagrants' as individually pathologically afflicted or
mentally disabled, lest we neglect the recognition of poverty as a
social product (Lott and Bullock 2001: 200; Hopper 1991). However,
studies also establish that a significant number of homeless people do
suffer from mental illnesses (Orwin, Sonnenfeld, Garrison-Mogren and
Smith 1994; Hopper 1991; Hopper Susser and Conover 1985), often since
these people are among the more vulnerable, especially with recent
policies of psychiatric deinstitutionalization (Alberta Alliance on
Mental Illness and Mental Health 2001, Nelson, Lord and Ochocka 2000;
Stein and Santos 1998; Robertson 1991).

A considerable amount of ethnographic data has been published based
on interviews with such people recalling their experiences (e.g. Morris
and Heffren 1988), very little of which specifically recognizes the
importance of narratives of the mentally ill homeless (Lovell 1997).
Albeit sparse, literature by academics about personal experiences with
bipolar disorder indicates that psychotic episodes can be remembered in
vivid detail (see Jamison 1997; 1996).

Although I did not take notes or conduct systematic interviews,
during my postsecondary anthropological training I often thought about
my experiences and discussed them at great length with other students
and anthropologists. This paper represents a re-contextualization of
these experiences through the lens of ethnographic context, and
temporally distanced re-conceptualizations are valuable in providing
rich, considered data (see Marcus 1998: 2). This article is based on
vivid memory of selective elements of personal experiences, dialogue and
observations. These have been academically refrained, much as if another
anthropologist interviewed me about life as an urban nomad (which would
seem spurious). My illness is obviously another 'filter"
through which I experienced life as an urban nomad. However, recognizing
the nature of this process likely contributes to the validity of my
observations. As is the case in ethnographic research among unfamiliar
cultural groups, ethnographers may be unaware of the extent or even the
existence of what (in Western terms) constitutes mental illness and
contributes to narrative problematics. Ironically the narrative of the
'mentally ill' might permeate ethnographic data, as well as
paralleling the fragmented discourse, multiple referents and dislocation
of meaning associated with the post-modern self (Lovell 1997: 355;
Rosenau 1991).

At those times when I had the advantage of owning an old van as
shelter and transportation, I parked in downtown core areas, as close as
possible to a central social location, whether a 'skid-row'
tavern, or a shelter for the homeless, in order to obtain social and
material support. People living on the streets accepted me in their
activities and conversation partly in return for my occasionally being
able to provide transportation. The van also served as a sort of
hangout, where individuals would show up to drink and visit out of the
public sphere. 'Informal methodology' is important as it can
provide contextual and behavioural knowledge that interviewing often
cannot (Rosenthal 1991:110). 'Hanging around' as informal
methodology may not be systematically rigorous, but over time it
facilitates analysis that make sense out of "gross
categorizations" like beggars or 'street people' (Lovell
1997: 358; Williams 1995: 26).

Social and Theoretical Context

There are central difficulties in academic and media presentations
of seminomadic urban peoples. Politically motivated applied research may
seem paternalistic, while research attempting to avoid a 'blame the
victim' view may produce unrealistically positive, sanitized
representations of the oppressed (Gigengack and van Gelder 2000: 9).
Many studies tend to emphasize Native people collectively as victims in
dialectical relationships with Euro-Canadians (Buchignani and Letkemann
1994: 217). On the other hand, trying to put a positive spin on such
ethnographic characters can have the effect of romanticizing the
lifestyle, congruent with populist media that often takes advantage of
public fascination with the 'exotic' domain of the streets.
Researchers tread a fine line of political correctness (Gigengack and
van Gelder 2000: 8-10).

Still, it is important to recognize that even the severely
disadvantaged have the agency to attempt formulation of a positive sense
of self, place and purpose (see Indra 2000). In these processes, the
urban nomads I lived with also romanticized their situations,
emphasizing their bravery, survival skills and successes and downplaying
the negative aspects. I commonly heard stories of dangerous exploits,
fearless physical encounters, sexual adventures and expressions like
"we prefer to sleep under the stars." On many occasions I also
felt personal achievement and pride in a level of subsistence ability
that allowed me to live, interact, and even travel long distances with
almost no monetary resources. For many urban nomads, and myself there
exists a felt sense of agency in reconstitution of mainstream societal
constructs of 'necessities.'

Perceptions of the 'self' and 'other,' continue
to be strongly defined in Western society by whether or not an
individual works (Letkemann 2002a, 2002b, 1998; Burman 1988; Abrahmson
et al 1988, Waxman 1977: 90), and maintains a fixed household (Simon
1971: 35). Individuals who appear to be defying this moralized
convention by living on urban streets cause a variety of strong
reactions, notably including anxiety and suspicion (Dumeir and Molotch
1999: 1291; Hudson 1998: 1). When they are of a visible First Nations
origin the stigma of poverty as deviance is combined with
culturally-specific stereotypes of lazy, untrustworthy, criminal
character and unclean body and mind (Cozarrelli, Wilkinson and Tagler
2001: 222; see Braroe 1975; Lithman 1985). These racist perceptions of
the poor are especially prevalent among members of the middle class
(Cozarreli et al 2001: 222; Hoch 1987: 20-23), providing a rationale for
discrimination, associating poverty with cultural dysfunction (Newman
1988; Hunter 1981: 64). Much of what is termed 'dysfunction'
relates to what is seen as a rejection of, or uncaring attitude towards
well-defined 'necessities.' That these might be perceived by
the homeless as unnecessarily constraining, paternalistic and even
ethnocentric, is commonly ignored or viewed as further evidence of a
dysfunctional worldview.

Urban Nomads and the Urbanization Process

A majority of American and Canadian Native people now live in
cities, but this does not necessarily diminish cultural awareness, a
sense of tribal association or (usually) identification with a reserve
community (Kramer and Barker 1996: 399-400; Grantham--Chappell 1998:
386; York 1990: 85). Extensive relocation between cities and rural
reserves is common in the urbanization processes of many Canadian First
Nations peoples (see Frideres 1998:124-33). In less than 150 years,
Canadian plains First Nations peoples have had to struggle to resettle
first on reserves and presently in cities (Colson 1999: 30-33). During
this time, the hunter gatherer lifestyle and spirituality of Plains
Native peoples have been extensively romanticized as well as vilified in
the popular culture media (see Meyer and Royer 2001: Bird 1996; Francis
1992). Studies of Third World and Western urban poverty constitute
parallel examinations (Susser 1996: 415). Hunger and lack of adequate
shelter are strong push factors towards the urban streets (McCarthy and
Hagan 1992: 624). In this process, nomadic or seminomadic urban nomads
establish contacts and social networks in the urban centre (grideres
1988: 244-5). The conditions of life on the streets should be viewed in
relation to the isolation and marginalization characteristic of many
reserves (Tanner 1993:91-3). Many of the urban nomads were also semi
nomadic on their 'home' reserves. They are part of an
often-overlooked rural homeless population (Filchen 1991: 179) with
temporary and unstable housing situations due to extreme poverty (see
York 1990). My experience with them suggests that both Native and
non-Native urban nomads also identify with a freedom associated with a
culturally salient perception of Aboriginality as including a
semi-nomadic 'living off the land.'

Like other migrants, Native people often urbanize in a process of
movement back and forth from rural to urban areas, slowly establishing
more permanent residence in the cities (Frideres 1998: 244-5).
Urbanization commonly involves a nucleus of clique formation that leads
to more stable forms of social organization in the city (Frideres 1998:
244). The nomads I lived with are a central part of this nucleus, and
are frequently in the process of migrating between rural and urban
domains, in both directions. Aside from poverty, factors in moving may
include periodic feeling of a need to escape constraints or restrictions
of many types, sometimes related to substance abuse or illnesses like
bipolar disorder which can cause familial conflicts and
institutionalization. Further, among the poor in general, periods of
living on the streets have become subsistence strategies (Hopper, et al.
1985:185). The urban nomads I interacted with are essential to this
strategy. Constantly moving between different domains, they often
referred to themselves as "travellers," a term that reflected
their 'unrestricted' ability to subsist and strategically
relocate, partly due to extensive social connections and
'alternative' worldviews.

Urban Nomads: Social Organization and Routine

The urban nomads I lived with are distinct in part since they
actively disassociate themselves from other homeless people who are not
very mobile and often or chronically incapacitated. I heard them insult
such people frequently and they did not include them in activities or
exchanges. Even chronically incapacitated kin are largely excluded and
may be treated with derision. I interceded several times to defend aged
homeless people from their younger, more active relatives who were
living on the streets. The harassment was usually verbal taunting and/or
feinting blows, and not physically harmful. Whenever I observed three or
four nomads harassing an incapacitated person and voiced my objections,
saying "leave him alone", they would look surprised and amused
and walk away, never challenging me at all. I did not have that agency
independently, but was allowed it collectively. Urban nomads are also
prone to extreme bouts of inebriation, but these are cases of
'binge drinking' rather than everyday states, and may have an
adaptive role in longer-term systems of reciprocity and sharing (Hauch
2002). During these occasions, less mobile homeless may be victimized by
theft, taunting and occasional violence. Stealing from these people
offers little material reward to urban nomads, and appears largely as an
assertion of hierarchy.

Subgroup Alliances

The urban nomads I lived among usually spend their days in
subgroups of two to four individuals. These alliances are so flexible
that subgroup membership almost never remains the same for more than a
few days. They reorganize on the basis of information about
possibilities of material resources, as well as factors of past
successes or failures, personality, kinship and conflicts. Such
seemingly spontaneous daily socio-political organization is described
among some hunting bands (i.e. Henriksen 1995) and resembles the reserve
political alliances described by Lithman (1984). The ability to change
subgroup alliances is also a commonly recognized social mechanism
designed to reduce conflict and create extensive networks within the
larger tribal group. Subgroup membership incorporates, yet often cross
cuts kinship relations. In fact, most of the conflict I observed was
between close kin, who tended towards competitive behaviour, especially
involving sexual relationships.

Urban nomads usually sleep in shelters or nearby parks, so they
begin the day as a large group. Extensive discussion and negotiations
about possible courses of action, along with established alliances leads
to daily subgroup formation. Usually a subgroup is organized around
someone's idea of ways to best acquire needed resources, and this
individual becomes the informal decision-maker for the group for as long
as their decisions prove sound. Leadership is as flexible as subgroup
membership, and both may change during the course of a day. Often one
part of the group will simply abandon the other and go their separate
ways with no negotiation (see Henriksen 1995). They will usually meet
another subgroup of nomads and form new sets of alliances. I was a sort
of 'freelancer' in this system, and I generally stayed with
certain individuals who I had learned would accept me and who 1 could
trust. When these people decided to reform alliances, I would follow
them. This would not have been a good longer-term subsistence strategy,
as I was viewed as partly dependent on these people, which tended to
decrease my level of prestige while increasing theirs. However, these
people and I were also viewed as 'stable', and to a certain
point I would put up with being manipulated by them.

Shifting membership in small groups contributes to solidifying a
larger social community, (Desjarlais 1994: 896) partly offsetting the
unpredictability commonly perceived of as characteristic of 'street
life.' Flexible group membership on the streets allows a political
agency of tactical movements (Ibid: 896). The ability to align and
realign with a variety of subgroups provides a significant degree of
(immediate) social freedom and choice, and creates networks among all
group members.

Urban nomads, like many homeless people, are alienated from members
of mainstream society and limited with whom they can develop strong
social bonds (Sterk--Elifson and Elifson 1992: 248; Lott and Bullock
2001: 201). However, shifting network alliances challenge the premise of
the 'bounded' poor, as individual alienation is not a
characteristic of relationships between familiar people in similar
positions (Sterk - Elifson and Elifson 1992: 248). Processes stemming
from catalytic forces of poverty can result in positive social aspects,
in spite of the very real suffering (Lovell 1997: 362). This occurs
through feelings of belonging, along with a culturally relevant ethos of
flexibility, actualized in a felt freedom from certain
'encumbrances' of mainstream society.

The 'Information Economy'

Due to extensive migration in both directions between cities and
reserves, and unanticipated situations along with the frequent lack of
telephones in many urban and reserve dwellings, many domiciled people
find themselves unsure of how best to locate others at any given time.
Almost daily, people approached the nucleus of urban nomads trying to
locate someone or needing information about things that had occurred.
Their semi-nomadic lifestyles provide nomads with continually updated
information on what people are doing, what resources they could be
expected to possess, what kind of trouble they are in and where and with
whom they are living. Urban nomads interact daily with a wide network of
people who have recently been to the reserves, established city
dwellers, and people in, or recently having been in various places,
whether an educational institution, prison, halfway house, mental
institution or substance abuse treatment facility. This constant
networking means that to some extent the nomads have the status of
information brokers. As well, it is in the interest of the domiciled
urban poor to actively maintain connections among the homeless since
they may have to resort to street life as a periodic subsistence
strategy (Hopper et al 1985). Reciprocal interactions are remembered and
are another way that the homeless are not bounded, but extensively
connected to people in many domains.

Urban nomads are well aware of the exchange value of their social
knowledge, although their ability to negotiate is constrained by their
immediate needs. In response to an inquiry, the nomads I was with
usually claimed much more knowledge than they really possessed, often
being carefully ambiguous in order to get a ride, ostensibly in search
of a person or specific information. I often heard one or more nomad say
"I'll take you to them," in response to an inquiry. For
the person seeking information, this is much like choosing to hire a
person to track someone down. Sometimes the 'client' takes two
or three urban nomads with them to try to find, or find out about
someone.

I witnessed some rather odd situations involving the initial
'recruitment of clients'. Whenever someone seeking information
approached the nomads with their query they were given a host of
earnestly expressed, yet often conflicting responses that appear to be
attempts to mislead. After repeatedly witnessing such behaviour it
became obvious that they were competitively demonstrating the extent and
relevance of their knowledge, and this demonstration included bluffing.
Some initial 'answers' are more outdated than others. The
'clients' usually choose a nomad they recognize as having the
most up to date information. However, they base this on their own
knowledge and how well it meshes with the varied responses, in an
elaborate dialogue that informs all involved and reflects the importance
of information as a resource.

Urban nomads capitalize on the availability of transportation to
gain information for themselves as much as for their client, making a
point of travelling to houses that they ordinarily do not have access to
on foot. Such journeys may or may not bring them much needed material
resources, but they will always add to their knowledge base, which is
just as essential. This process could go on for a long period of time,
and might involve several trips. Each time the 'client' will
get closer to the object of their inquiry, or abandon the nomad in
favour of another approach. In either scenario, a connection has been
made and a great deal of information exchanged.

Being driven around from place to place might result in a temporary
place to stay or a meal for the urban nomad. Occasionally they are
recruited, usually by a relative, to baby-sit in the home in exchange
for temporary food and lodging. It is likely difficult for a casual
observer to envision one of these 'street people' as part time
baby-sitters, but this is not uncommon. It is an adaptive strategy for
the poverty stricken domiciled family as well as the urban nomad. Such
trips also let them know which people, at that time, do not welcome them
at all. I heard expressions like 'you're nothing but
trouble' or 'don't come around here after what you
did' that inform the nomad that the household is not approachable,
and has no immediate resource value. However, information about who is
not receptive is valuable when shared among nomads, and can have long
lasting reciprocal effects, that may also influence alliances on the
streets.

Hostile responses are usually due to some recent altercation, or a
perceived injustice involving friends or relatives. Drawing the
attention of neighbours who then call the police is one of the most
serious offences, since it may jeopardize the domiciled person's
position in the neighbourhood. For many reasons, Native people and the
poor in general are already disadvantaged in acquiring permanent urban
residence. Once established, they do not want to lose their position.
Ironically, the same individuals who are invited to spend the night or
share a meal may subsequently be assigned blame for actions they are not
responsible for. In my experience, most trouble that occurs when a nomad
is in a house is inevitably blamed on them, even when the householder is
the cause. For minor incidents, everyone, including the police, casually
accept this assignation of blame, which often leads to a night spent in
the local jail. When the police arrive, I would hear statements by the
householder is to the effect of 'I don't even know who he is,
he just barged right in here. Look at the mess he made!'

Taking the blame for such disturbances is an important service
provided by the urban nomad. In these cases, I never observed a nomad
proclaiming their innocence. The urban nomads are considered (and
considered themselves) to be less constrained than the householder in
taking these kinds of risks involving police. In several cases, a nomad
accused and removed by police one night was able to stay at the same
house the next day, with no hard feelings. Notably, I was also the
object of such accusations, but as a non-Native male, police only told
me to leave or dropped me off at a shelter.

Exchange of information is an important part of the political
economy of homeless people in general (Desjarlais 1994: 893). The
sharing ethic, a central symbol of Aboriginality, is expressed through
the politicized structure of information exchange. This ethic is
reinforced by the symbolically charged practice of freely sharing other
subsistence related items. Although not directly conducive to saving
resources with a goal of acquiring permanent residence, such sharing is
ultimately a good subsistence strategy for urban nomads (Hauch 2002:
211). This maintains connections with domiciled urban poor that can
facilitate subsistence abilities of both groups through movement across
domains (see Hopper et al 1985).

Conclusion: Connecting Social, Physical and Symbolic Domains

Using the adventurous connotations of their term for themselves,
these 'travellers' can think of themselves as survivors in the
face of societal constraints and thus freedom from them. The
'American dream' myth/urban legend of arriving in the
unfamiliar and rather hostile environment of the city with virtually no
money, and struggling to eventually succeed is a powerful folk
conception for potential and new immigrants as well as long time
residents. The urban nomads operate in the realms of and contribute to
such mythology as well as to key symbols of Aboriginality, like
semi-nomadism, flexible social organization and sharing. They physically
and metaphorically connect domains of reserve and city life, Native and
non-Native, homeless and domiciled. They may be considered both liminal
and marginal and as occupying the positions of the
'underclass,' yet they are also powerful social and cultural
brokers. Through daily practice, the urban nomads also render categories
of the domiciled urban poor and the homeless less dichotomous, and
rather more complex and fluid than is usually perceived by members of
mainstream society.

Within a context of pathologies, oppression and constraints these
individuals carve a niche of social networks and ethnic and
socio-economic identities. Like Native peoples in general, urban nomads
do not accept marginalization as inevitable, and the racism underlying
this exclusionism contributes to a reluctance to accept mainstream
compliance ideology (Frideres 1998: 329) that includes being perceived
centrally as victims rather than individuals. Even when suffering from
substance abuse problems and/or mental illness, these people are not
necessarily acting in random fashion. Urban nomads have to be acutely
aware of patterns of interaction and sharing, networking and brokering,
pragmatic knowledge and means of manipulating situations. They are
boundary spanners in the process of urban migration that links reserve
and city lifestyles and worldviews (Grantham-Chappell 1998). Rather than
being singularly 'bounded,' they contribute to the complex
link between mainstream society and a marginalized group. I am grateful
to the urban nomads for taking me in when I needed a place, and glad to
know that, like myself, some of them have relocated to successful career
and family lives.

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